"NIRVANA"

'Na Main Momin Vich Maseetaan

Na Main Vich Kufar Diyan Reetaan

Na Main Paakaan Vich Paleetaan

Na Main Moosa Na Firown

Bulleya Ki Jaana Main kaun'

Hi everyone,

Since I am from Punjab, the rice dish I grew up on is Pulao. I was introduced to Biryani much later in life and befriended it instantaneously. If you give me a plate of biryani and a bowl of vanilla ice cream, you can be eligible to ask for my kidney in return. 

Every time I go to a dinner party, I hope to be sent home with a small Tupperware  filled with leftovers of my favorite rice, given the hostess is gracious enough. 

 

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon an extra gracious hostess who made me a small container of leftover Biryani to take home. The next day I started to eat it for lunch. I relished, or rather, inhaled the first few bites and thanked Allah for giving me such a generous friend. I even did du'a for her and every other person who was remotely related to her. 

  

I took few more bites and wondered why God is so good to me. After almost being done with it, while quite full as well, I forced myself to eat the last two spoonfuls just for the sake of finishing it. I noticed that there was a remarkable difference in taste from my first bite to the last spoonful as the last bite didn't taste nearly as good as the first one. 

Same food, same me, and same taste buds but drastic difference of taste!

It was very puzzling and was a sure call for Excedrin as I needed to connect the dots of life in my head before I could say 'what a paradox'!

Was my appetite, and my relish for it what added taste to it?

Do I have such power?

Is a relationship only priceless to me because I am paying way too much of a  price for it?

Is my chase of gold like a crazed person giving worth to it or is it  just a metal?

To me this was a 'nukta' that had the capability to unfold one of life's biggest mystery to me:

Why we own more than we need or will ever be able to use or even handle. It could be an expensive piece of jewelry  or a much sought after relationship. Most of our possessions stop giving us pleasure the moment they come in our possession. I didn't need to finish the whole damn plate of Biryani just because I loved it. 

The inner power that I have is totally nullified by my acquisitiveness. I don't need to oversimplify the connection between my inner strength and my indulgence of a weakness as it is simple enough. The taste that vanished from my food perhaps was never there to begin with!

Much love, 

Shehla

   

"I Wonder....."

Hi Everyone,

"Alif Allah Chambay Di Booti Tey Meray Murshid Mann Vich Lai Hoo

Ho Naïf Uss Baat Da Paani Dey Kay

Har Ragaay Harjai Hoo

Ho Joog Joog Jeevay Mera Murshid Sohna

Hatay Jiss Ay Booti Lai Ho"

I wonder why the walls we build around us end up being taller than the ones society does. 

I wonder why  the sky is the limit. 

I wonder why our lives are counted in years and not by the steps we take. 

I wonder why a door has to close for a new one to open.

I wonder why life takes its own sweet time to unfold its mysteries. 

I wonder why human relationships are much more complex than a human mind. 

I wonder why I am losing my looks and my mind simultaneously. 

I wonder why Angelina and Brad aren't married yet. 

I wonder why I started walking toward the end the moment I took my first steps.

I wonder why my gloves had to take fifty years to come off.  

I wonder why I don't recognize myself in the mirror anymore. 

I wonder why I  have to come at life with everything I acquired, innate, and then some...just to survive. 

I wonder why I had to lose my parents and why my children will have to lose theirs. 

I wonder why I spent half my life noticing things that I shouldn't have. 

I wonder why I feel the pain of my children before they feel it themselves. 

I wonder why I stopped looking up to people. 

I wonder why people stop taking you for granted the minute you start taking them for granted. 

I wonder why my heart has to be my Achilles' heel. 

I wonder why coffee is an acquired addiction. 

I wonder why my mind is going places where I thought it could never go. 

I wonder why God is so good to me. 

I wonder why I had to face the dichotomy of two cultures and then throw my children into it. 

I wonder why I am supposed to act as a good old grandmother when my grandkids are around. 

I wonder why life gets you when you are not looking. 

I wonder why humanity is being slaughtered by humans. 

I wonder why it takes so long to catch up to the philosophy of 'Catch 22'. 

I wonder why no one can beat us in the game of life like we beat ourselves.

I wonder why I thought for the longest time that I was just a pawn, when I was the whole game of chess. 

I wonder why you have to let go of your children to bring them back. 

I wonder why someone had to come up with the concept of daylight savings. 

I wonder why culture has the ability to surpass religion. 

I wonder why denials get you through life like nothing else can. 

I wonder why my bones don't agree with the notion that age is just a number.

I wonder why I run out of my prerogatives before I do of my fingers. 

I wonder why it's so hard to hold out the olive branch for my gender. 

I wonder why man proposes if God disposes. 

I wonder why marriage is called a gamble and not a calamity. 

I wonder why I didn't get a chance to say proper goodbyes to my parents. 

I wonder why we don't grow up until our parents die. 

Much Love,

Shehla

"Mind over Matter"

                                              "Sada Na Baghin Bulbul Boley 

                                       Sada Na Bagh Bahara'an 

                                       Sada Na Maa Pey Husn Jawa'ani

                                       Sada Na Sohbat Yara'an"

Hi everyone,

At the age of 57, I see myself standing in a place where I thought I would never be. A place where your husband looks at you differently as you are getting stripped of your youth and all that comes with it, a place where you start to realize that you need your children more than they need you, a place where you have a rude awakening that they are bigger than you in each and every sense of the word, a place where society forces you to take a back seat. 

It is the time when you start walking on the 'Pul Sirat' of life. It is the time when you let go of your heart and hold on to your mind. It is the time when your mind needs to kick in big time and become your balancing stick. Quite often you shake like a leaf inside, but the world doesn't need to see that. All it needs to see is a strong, dignified, wise, and put together woman who hasn't just landed here claiming all these virtues, but rather, has been through the mill and earned it. 

Although, like everything else, this doesn't happen overnight, it seems as it did!

In the photograph I attached, I see my two year old trying his best to get away, while I am trying my utmost not to let him slip out of my protective hands. Now after 32 years I look at this photograph and see very different things:

Things were never in my control; I just thought they were and that kept me going. There is a bigger force up there who is in charge, who gives and then takes it away, who takes it away but then compensates, who gave me limited knowledge, a tunnel vision of sorts, so I could live in my own small world thinking I had power.

You can wallow in self pity and mourn whatever you lost as a woman until the day you die, or you can put yourself on a pedestal with a few medals around your neck, where you can become untouchable, where you can be E.F Hutton and "people will listen", where you somehow develop a Midas Touch, where you realize what you have gained outweighs what you lost, where you give a lot more than you take, where you cannot afford to look down or you will fall, where you don't allow yourself to look back for risk of becoming stone.

Individuality is a beautiful thing. "You come into the world alone and you go out of the world alone" is not only the biggest reality of life, it is perhaps one of the very few philosophies that has logic attached to it. As a woman, one must apply to life as you often stand alone!

I am enjoying this stage, or rather, myself, on this stage called Life. I drag my middle aged bones everywhere and test their limits. I cannot wait to get old enough to play the card of senility!

Much love,

Shehla

"Justified"

Hi Everyone,

       After my guests left last Fall, I was trying to get my house back in order. One Tuesday morning I got up, much later than usual, and I was quite surprised at my sleeping in, as it is highly unusual for someone like me, who is up at the crack of dawn every morning. In about 30 seconds, I realized that the previous night I had a strange nightmare that a scary monster had eaten three of my children and was coming after me. My disturbed sleep became my justification to wake up late. 

     After solving that world mystery I was relieved. I did my Kaza prayers and came downstairs. I opened the fridge, stood there with my face stuck in it for three minutes (that is a long time standing in front of an open fridge.) I had trouble deciding what to eat, or rather, what not to eat. Soon enough, I opted for an omelette delight and grabbed an egg. I did this knowing very well due to strong heart disease history in my family, I shouldn't be having eggs at all. Still in doubt of my decision, and debating this for a while, I walked up to the window, and all I saw was a damp, dreary depressing day outside. All these weather related factors assured me that eating this, full of protein egg in the morning would energize me enough to 'combat' the horror right outside my door. I swiftly grabbed another egg and enjoyed a 'two-egged' omelette breakfast.

      I did my daily routine chores, laundry, dishes, kitchen cleaning etc, and went back upstairs to straighten my room, took a shower, and then stood in front of a mirror for a long time to straighten myself up. This of course took much longer than straightening up my house, (of course the bigger the mess, the longer it takes). Once I got to the point where I looked presentable enough to the world, I grabbed my jeep keys and cruised to the nearest shopping mall.

     Although I got a lecture from my husband not even 24 hours ago about the bad state of the world economy and particularly our household, I found myself standing in front of a perfume counter (my husband's lectures affect me like a '24 hour flu'). Against my better judgement and with no intention of messing up my budget that month, I still walked away with the latest fragrance, justified with the unrelentless persuasivenenss of the sales girl, and just to help the economy a little bit, (while hurting my own a lot). If nothing else would work, "you only live once" would come in handy. 

     I came home, called my sister in Pakistan, checked my emails, went on Facebook, posted some silly and non-stilly stuff, and then started calling all my children and started leaving harassing messages about them not picking up. I justified these harassing calls by the natural worry I have for my children. Pretty soon it was time for my 20 minutes walk on the treadmill which I did not do, justified by the fact that the hour long walk I took in the shopping mall was more than plenty exercise for one day. 

     Then it was time to cook dinner. I opened the freakin' fridge again, stood there, looked at all the leftovers from the past 2 days and singlehandedly vetoed the idea of making something savory and justified by being extra sensitive to world hunger at that moment. I convinced myself that all this food would be wasted if I cooked something fresh and actually decided not to cook at all until every morsel of the leftovers were gone.I went to bed early, of course justified by the fact that I did not get enough sleep two nights before. 

     The next day I looked back at a very typical day of my life and was astonished at the fact of how many times I justified my actions and non-actions throughout the course of the day. I had perfect reasons, or rather justifications, for doing things that I did, or rather wanted to do, and even more so for things, I didn't do, or rather I did not want to do. 

     Who says the wheel is the biggest invention for mankind? And that it makes the world go 'round? I say that justification is the much bigger invention that man conveniently invented for himself, that only makes his world go 'round. As they say, "Every story has two sides". I say, every story has two justification. Try to resolve an issue between two people and you will be shocked to see that most of the time that both sides are right, or rather right in justifying their reasoning and actions.

     On a more serious note, we see so much injustice in our society, which is somehow, somewhere, at some level, justified beautifully. We breathe free, while suffocate our relationships, innocents are hung and killers are set free on a daily basis. It is mind boggling how a murderer or mass murders are justified. It is not that their case it stronger, just that their justification is strong enough to let them go. 

     In my experience, very few things in life are our prerogative, for the rest of our actions, we need some type of justification. We exercise the self endowed right of justification very liberally and think it is a very benign way of keeping our conscience at peace, which at times can play our best friend or our worst enemy. 

     Since we can't take everything to the court of law to get justice, we should be accountable to the court system that is built in our beings. Luckily, we were born with it. If we somehow stop ourselves from walking away with so many things, at so many levels, and instead becoming accountable to ourselves before we become accountable to anyone else, this world, or at least this small world we create for ourselves, would become much more bearable to live in.

     I totally believe that injustice starts from within and then starts to spread like the plague, a highly contagious one. 

     I rest my case.

     Much Love, 

     Shehla

"Sheher Lahore"

                  "Daal duss kha'an Sheher Lahore andar 

                  bahi kinney boohay tey kinniya'an bariya'an ney

                  Naley duss outho'un di itta'an bahi

                  kinniya'an tuttiya'an tey kinniya'an saria'an ney

                  Daal duss kha'an Sheher Lahore andar khooya'an 

                  kinniya'an mithia'an tey kinniya'an kharia'an ney

                  zara souch key davee jawab mainu outhey

                  kinniya'an viyahia'an tey kinniy'an kunwaria'an ney

                  Daal dussa'an main Sheher Lahore andar

                  bahi lakha'an boohey tey lakha'an hi baria'an ney

                  Jinna itta'an tey dhar gaye pair aashiq

                  oho tuttiy'an tey baqi sariy'an ney

                  Jinna kooya'an tey bhar gaye mashooq pani

                  oho mithia'an tey baqi khariy'an ney

                  Jehria'an behandi'an naal apney sajna dey

                  oho viahia'an tey baqi kanwari'an ney"

Hi Everyone,

A freshly brewed cup of Chai, company of Ahmad and Hassan, a few evenings of 'Sheher Lahore' and a tall glass of freshly squeezed anar juice here and there is all it is going to take to make my less than perfect life, perfect.

Chai is my first and last love as I got hooked on it quite early on in my life and then there was no turning back. It does wonders for me, picks me up when I am down and calms me down when I am anxious. When I moved abroad and got introduced to the new face of loneliness, countless cups of Chai taught me how to tackle it and became a mutual friend to both of us.

Then come Ahmad Safdar and Hassan Safdar: These two brothers who were born twelve months apart from each other and my son Haroon was born right in the middle, and God who has always been good to me blessed me with three son in the mere span of one year and i m pretty sure that not many women can make this claim. I got two sons without having to go through morning sickness and labor pains. I wouldn't hesitate to declare them as my own if i didn't have any fear of God  or more importantly fear of NAHEED (their mother) in me. Although they r my son's age, his soul mates, Anwar and my best friend's sons, they somehow redefined the word 'friendship' for me or I should rather say defined the word friendship for me for the very first time. They are there when I need them and even when I don't and that is the beauty of my relationship with them. I just love the fact that they are always there for me. 

Ahmad is a sheer genius whose mind has the caliber to play with anyone's mind anyway he wants. Anyone can easily become 'silly putty' in his hands. Highly motivational, very charismatic, and his ability to comprehend a person at first sight not only boggles your mind it grabs your heart as well. While Hassan's total understanding of a difficult situation, his unbelievable power to empathize, sometimes knowing what you need before you know it yourself, 'Having you at Hello'  and above all  ability to absorb pain quietly and gracefully is mind blowing and grabs u r soul big time.  

During my last visit to pakistan I was staying with them in Lahore. One fine evening, after having 3 cups of Chai, the Safdars (including their mom Naheed and Ahmad's wife Amna) took me out for dinner. After eating everything in that restaurant that didn't move, they wanted to indulge me with a tall glass of Anaar juice. Somehow during our search for the perfect juice stand, the boys decided to look for the perfect kulfa/Falooda as well. During this pursuit of happiness, I started looking around if I recognized few spots where i might have left few footprints. I found Sheher Lahore to be a little different this time around or maybe i was a little different this time around. I said 'I wish I could see lahore with foriegn eyes'. My comment startled Ahmad and he went 'Aunty you are so deep'. You can not take Ahmad's compliments/comments seriously or you are in big trouble.

The next morning when i woke up 'hung over' from the countless cups of Chai, two glasses of Anar juice and two servings of kulfa/falooda, I had two more cups of Chai as an antidote to get my head straight and my 'vision' back. I knew I would be paying for 'Happy Hour' this way but it was worth it. After this homemade remedy worked I realized that my connection with Sheher Lahore was more deep rooted than i thought. I lived here twice, once when i was very young and later from 1970 to 1976. I entered this city of glamor and lights at the tender age of fourteen with eyes wide open with wonder and curiosity. I was such a Dorothy in the land of oz and  this city offered everything it had to me and It had BadShahi Mosque, it had Lal Qilla. It also had Ichraa, Liberty Market, Anakali, Mall Road, fruit chaat from Bano Bazar and of course Lollywood at it's prime with glory and enchantment that completely blinded my eyes. It had a number of beautiful cinemas which at the time didn't seem sufficient to absorb that much glamor, it had Al-Hamrah Art Council which was over flowing with culture as well.

To this day when I go back home from the USA, and as soon as the PIA plane goes in taxi, beautiful folk music starts playing with all my nostalgic senses, and after a perfect landing from our great world renowned pilots, people start cheering and clapping as my eyes start to tear. As soon as I grab my carry-on and walk out of the plane I start inhaling Sheher Lahore. We become one entity as I become all about Lahore and Lahore becomes all about me and I am unable to tell who missed who more. It opens its arms wide and takes me in like a mother, is more than eager to show me a great time like a good old friend. It is usually at the middle of the night when I land and I feel as the whole city is up waiting for me as it's daughter is coming home after a very long (in every sense of the word) journey. This city has always left the door open for me to walk right in and claim my share of it, and as I walk down the portable metal staircase, with each and every step I feel more and more grounded and when my tired and swollen feet touch the ground I know i am finally where I belong.

I 'experienced' Lahore at a tender ages of fourteen to twenty when I saw my very small world through rose colored glasses, when I ruled my parent's hearts, when I could get away with murder as far as they were concerned, when I knew i wasn't the prettiest girl around but I thought I was the prettiest girl around, when Waheed Murad, Rajesh Khanna, Shahid and Shashi Kapoor were fighting over me (needless to say, only in my mind), when Ghulam Mustafa Khar, who sadly has turned into a dirty old man gradually, was the handsome, dashing Governor of Punjab, when I wasn't aware of the fact that there were four seasons in a lunar year as i was only introduced to 'Mosmey-Bahar', when I would walk miles and miles and my feet hardly touched the ground. 

The next day I did try my level best to look at Lahore through foreign eyes but failed miserably. You have to feel and own this city to absorb it,  Although it was and still is a very beautiful, charming, full of life historical city, my seeing this magical place through my young, naive, inexperienced, innocent, filled with wonder eyes, my coming of age, the depth of my soul or may be combination of all above made this city called Lahore 'Sheher Lahore'.

Much love,

Shehla 

"My Two Hands"

"Eh Puttar Hatt'an Tey Nahin Vickdey

Toun Labdi Phirain Bazar Kurrey

Eh Dain Hey Merey Daata Di

Na Aviyan Tak'raan Maar Kurrey

Eh Puttar Vikaou Cheez Nahin

Mul Dey Key Jholi Pay'een Nee

Eh Aida Sasta Maal Nahin 

Kittoun Jaa Key Mang Liy'ai Nee

Eh Soada Naqad Vee Nahin Milda

Tou Labdi Phirain Udhaar Kurrey"

Hi Everyone,


The thought of eventually ending up with an empty nest never crossed my mind when I was raising my children. Being blessed with six beautiful children and getting hit with a 'tsunami' of in laws simultaneously kept me on my toes most of my life and more importantly, away from thinking too hard. 


In the summer of 1996 my oldest daughter Aalia left for college. Then every couple of years one of my children left home to follow their dreams, or rather, mine. I was never that panicky since I knew that this process would continue for a long, long time. Besides, I always had my baby son Hashim with me. I guess I was so very overwhelmed with my older kids that I never realized that he was growing up and catching up with his siblings just as fast when none of us was looking.


Hashim left for Washington DC in the summer of 2007 after being accepted to Georgetown University. My older son Haroon, who was already in Washington DC doing his Ophthalmology residency, packed him up and dropped him off at his dorm. I was so relieved that I didn't have to go since I knew I didn't have the heart to leave my prized possession there and come home empty handed.


 My life became tasteless and quite colorless. This was the first time the haunting feeling of having an empty nest sunk in and I really took it to heart. I lost my appetite and had trouble sleeping at night. One night I found a remedy to my sleeplessness. I walked into Hashim's room and grabbed his pillow, and put it next to me as a body pillow. I put my hands on it and went to sleep. Pretty soon this became a ritual for me. I would rub both of my hands on his pillow, take in the scent of my hands and I swear to God, I would smell my son's fragrance on them. I would then put them under my cheek and would go to sleep like a baby. Whenever I would wash my bedding, I wouldn't wash this pillow. I was afraid that if I threw it in the washing machine, freakin' Tide would take away my son's essence for sure.


After a few months, when the pillow became quite filthy, I got a little used to his absence as well. I decided to throw it in the wash cycle. The pillow was cleaned and smelled just like the fabric softener I used. I put the pillow back in his room since now I had no use for it. 


That night when I put both my hands under my cheek before I went to sleep, I still smelled my son on my hands. Then it dawned on me: My son's smell wasn't in the pillow, it was on my hands. A stream of tears started coming down my cheeks and I started kissing my both hands like a crazed person.


Why wouldn't they smell like my son? They held him tight when he came into this world, fed him, bathed him, changed him countless times, nourished him enough to turn a 21 inch baby into a 6'3 giant. They held him when he wasn't able to walk, bandaged his scratched knee, touched his eyes, then kissed them every time he went to sleep. They picked him up after each and every fall, hugged him when he needed one, and even when he didn't, protected him from all the evils of this world and above all raised them up five times a day to Almighty Allah to beg everything a mother could ask for her son.  


The next morning I looked at my hands, like really looked at them for the first time. This set of hands was the most beautiful and powerful thing I had ever laid eyes on........ they were the hands of an artist. Although Allah had created my son, my two hands had unbelievable strength and enough creativity to sculpt a helpless little baby boy into a beautiful young man, to mold and shape him the way my heart desired, to engrave ethics, values and scruples in his mind, to put care, compassion and empathy in his heart.


 These two bare hands paved the road to his success, knocking down road blocks, bled while picking up thorns from the path of his life, and ironically these two very hands that would shield him from the world pushed him into the same world to make a life for himself.




Much Love, 
Shehla

"Namesake"

"Avval aakhir aap nu jaana,

Na koi dooja hor pehchaana,

Maethon hor na koi siyaana,

Bulla! ooh khadda hai kaun, Bulleya Ki jaana main Kaun"

Hi Everyone,

Every child deserves the indulgence of a carefree bachpan and no child should have to grow up without the luxury of their mother's aangan. I was lucky enough to enjoy both joys in great abundance.

The line of work my father was in had a downside to it that we had to move to a different city every 2 to 3 years. My mother, God rest hersoul, hated it. It wasn't that easy for her to pick up and move to a new and different place, try to settle her family there, and then pretty soon have to leave again. Every now and then she would complain about it, but being a child, I was totally obvilious to her difficulties. I couldn't care less where we lived and there was a reason behind it. Every city we moved to had one thing in it that I needed the most: my mother's aangan.

So many blissful memories are attached to that time. Bringing home a trophy from a softball match was the greatest thrill of my life. My life was full of curiosities, yet filled with a lot of securities. To this day I am carrying the security blanket weaved with the thread of protection my father provided, the countless sacrifices my mother made, and plenty of dreams they both let go so their children could follow theirs. That security blanket carried me through my share of turmoils and insecurities.

To me that was a magical place set in a magical time. Everything I wanted, everything I needed and much, much more was there for me to have. And then my three siblings were there to keep me entertained.While we were wrestling with each other, fighting over toys, fighting over our parent's attention, and sometimes trying to out do each other, consciously or unconsciously we were forming a unbreakable bond. It was very hard for me to leave the good place that I was at when I got married.

When I left my parents house for good, a little girl came with me. Somehow I never felt her 'presence' there. I am still not sure if I asked her to come or she just tagged along for the roller coaster ride called 'life'. She was a bit younger but looked exactly like me. One more thing I had in common with her was that she had my name......she was my NAMESAKE. Now I understand why my newlywed husband at the time used to complain at times about babysitting his new bride as I feel this young girl used to come out quite often just to irritate him. It was hard for the poor man to juggle both of us at the same time, but she was not successful in scaring him off.

My namesake is always with me. To me she is like a souvenir from a happy place. She plays an adamant role in my day to day life, and has become quite indispensable ....

otherwise I would have gotten rid of her by now. She takes me by my hand and walks me away from pain when I feel completely incapacitated. She becomes reckless when I am timid as hell, she plays dumb when I am too sharp for my own good, she exploits big time when I am being exploited, and she is completely irrational when i am 'painfully' logical. She jumps out of her skin when I hold back, she lashes back when I am attacked. I admire her when she holds her own as I fall apart, she takes a stand as I am willing to take it lying down. I love her for having total faith in herself, while I have absolute faith in Almighty Allah, for recognizing my tarnished soul when I myself don't have the heart to do it, for seeing the light at the end of the tunnel when I am blinded by hopelessness.

I am afraid to let her go. As a matter of fact, as time is passing by, I am holding on to her even more. Can anyone of you really blame me for doing so? I feel she is my 'survival' (although, I could easily be her survival too). I made a conscious decision to not let her grow up, while she is trying her utmost to stall my aging. Now that I have lived more than half a century and have started winding up my life, I have become more sure of the fact that since I couldn't face 'life' without her, I wouldn't be able to face 'death' without her either.

On a lighter note, and at the risk of getting slapped with a heavy 'fatwa', I want her to come with me when I face my Creator. Maybe she can come up with a few 'justifications' to get me an 'easier sentence'. While I plead guilty, she could take the plea of insanity. I think she should come along for this ride as well because I don't want her to outlive me since I feel my loved ones wouldn't be able to handle her 'full strength'.


"VAY BULLYA ASAN MARNA NAHI GOAR PAYA KOI HOAR....."

Much Love,

Shehla

"The Beaten Track"

"Ik Nuqte Vich Gal Mukdi Eh

Ik Nuqte Vich Gal Mukdi Eh

Pharh Nukta Chourh Hisabaan Nu

Pharh Nukta Chourh Hisabaan NuI

Ik Nuqte Vich Gal Mukdi Eh

Ik Nuqte Vich Gal Mukdi Eh"

Hi Everyone,

Although our township did provide a bus service for my children to get to school, I always preferred driving them in the morning. On the way back they would take the bus home. This was definitely a motherly gesture on my part as I felt my kids could get some extra sleep in the morning since the bus route was quite early. Secondly, and more importantly, I could have them alone with me, and have their undivided attention so I could lecture them to death since I knew they were smart enough not to jump out of the moving car. That summer my father was visiting us. He used to come along with me every morning as he loved students, and loved seeing their faces full of life, giving him hope for future.

One Monday morning, I dropped Khadija, Sidrah, and then Hashim off and was eager to get home and have my most favorite thing, a fresh cup of Chai. There was a road block on my way back due to some construction and I had to take a detour. It took me about five extra minutes to get home. The second day was the same thing, which annoyed me a little. By the end of the week, I noticed that this detour of about a half a mile was such a drag, while my daily drive of about 10 miles was a breeze. I was very puzzled at my annoyance and I hesitantly asked my father why I was fine driving 10 miles every morning through rush hour, rushing to get my kids to school on time, while this extra half a mile was hard for me to take. He looked at me through his thick glasses, while I'm sure wondering whether his daughter was borderline dumbfounded or touching the heights of 'Sufiism', (to this day I believe he was wrong on both counts). He said to me, "Beti, for you those 10 miles are a 'beaten track'.

My father was the most well read man I knew and an absolute source of knowledge about anything and everything. He was referred by his friends and colleauges as 'a walking library'. I had a golden opportunity to ask him what a beaten track was but I didn't. For some reason I like to understand things on my own, through my own experiences. Since I have a very laid back attitude about seeking 'knowledge', I could easily wait until that understanding came to me. I could wait a long time, even a lifetime, to understand a 'nukta', and when I get to that 'nukta' through my own experience (God help that nukta), it gets engraved in my mind and I am more than ready and fully charged to apply it in any situation I need to. I can't stand 'Google' since it gives me more information than I need or can handle. And the 'copy, cut and paste' is a damn right killer of originality.

Over the next few years, I had a few (although not many) sleepless nights over trying to figure out the freakin' beaten track'. Now I can tell you what I came up with. It could be that our everyday life routine is a beaten track for us, anything out of the ordinary if we have to do that becomes such a drag. I think that in our routine lives some of our very dear relationships become beaten tracks to us. We only do so much for those people and if we have to go up a notch for them we feel quite burdened. I feel sad to say that I believe that in our hearts and minds, we calculate everyones' worth to us, the way I calculated the 10 miles of my kid's school route). We set up a berometer to measure the minimum/maximum we need to invest in that particular relationship. As it was hard for me to go that extra half a mile, it must be quite hard for me to go an extra mile in a giving relationship.

After much thought, I realized that I could be the 'beaten track' to so many people in my life. This thought scared the daylights out of me, but lot of my confusions hit 'clarity'. No wonder my kids make faces when I ask for a second cup of tea, as they can hardly manage the first one, meaning I was 'issued' only one cup at a time according to their beaten track quota for me. No wonder my husband is about to kill me when I over spend. I am sure each extra dollar is 'painful' for him as he was hardly tolerating me as it was.

From then on, I decided to go off track. I started taking the longer and different route home (although my gas bills were hitting the roof). Along with me, my automobile has discovered different routes to malls which was set on auto before. I started cherishing my relationships and started investing in them big time. Nothing was above and beyond me to do for anyone who touched my life.

Every different route that I take has a different landscape to enjoy. Different traffic jams to curse at or new strip malls to discover. I got rid of my beaten track mentality by developing different approaches to solve a problem or resolve an issue and discovered that there could be so many ways to solve a problem but there is only one resolution. When you go an extra mile, you not only discover different approaches to your destination, but in a human relationship, you sometimes get to touch someone's heart or are allowed to peek into someone's soul. I could go miles and miles just for that 'treat'.

I fell into life's rut easily, and fell out of it with even greater ease. Now when I see a 'detour' sign, I smile for my father and then I am more than eager to take it because I know somehow, going through different 'unfamiliar paths', it will take me to my destination, my home.

Much Love,

Shehla

California Closets

"Paddh Paddh Ilm Hazaar Kitaaban
Kadi Apne Aap Nu Parhiya Nai
Ja Ja Warde Mandir Maseeti
Kadi Munn Apne Vich Warya Nai

Aiwein Larda Shaitaan De Naal Bandiya
Kadi Nafs Apne Naal Larya Nai
Aakhe Peer Bulleh Shah Aasmani Pharhna Eh
Jehda Munn Vich Wasda Ohnu Pharya Nai"

Hi everyone,

After having four children and constant traffic of guests, my husband and I felt that our present house was getting a little too small for us. We contacted a real estate agent, who was more than happy to show us new properties. In real estate, as the say, there are three things to look for: "location, location, and location". My husband followed that to the letter and asked the real estate lady to show us houses in areas which wouldn't have any resale problems.

The biggest complain that I had regarding our present house was that it didn't have enough closet space. Our closets would always be cluttered as they didn't have enough space or shelves to organize our stuff. So whenever we would go to the 'for sale' houses, while my husband would be checking out the backyard and knocking on the woodwork to check the quality, I would look through its kitchen quickly, and then run to the master bedroom closet to see if it had enough space. Since our requirements were way different from each others and always been all our lives, we had a very difficult time finding the right house. After couple of years worth of house searching we decided to buy a lot and build our own home.

It had to be my husband's dream house, a house he worked so hard for all his life. I have to admit I was not as passionate about it as he was. By this time I had six children and I could hardly manage them and couldn't care less about anything else. I didn't want much in this new house, but I definitely wanted a bigger and more organized closet. Our architect recommended a company called 'California Closets' which could help us with designing the inside of our closets. They sent their representative to meet us, to show us some designs and sketches. She was a beautiful young lady, so my husband was "sold" before she showed her portfolio. I still was very much interested in her sketches and took quite a long time to decide how I wanted them.

Our house took about two years to build and in 1997 we moved into it. Anwar was ecstatic about his achievement and I slowly started to warm it up with my childrens' laughter, and broke it in with their muddy shoes and their sticky fingerprints. The first time I went into my walk-in closet, I felt quite 'tahi-daaman' as I felt I didn't have enough personal belongings to fill it with. I hope and pray that I don't feel as 'tahi-daaman' when I face my creator on the Day of Judgement. This closet had built-in shelves and a lot of rods to hang clothes. I thought I should add a safe (for my jewelery) to my closet as well. My 'bright' idea was vetoed right away by my husband who thought it would be too expensive at this point to break the wall and put a built-in safe. After couple of fights, of course I gave up. It didn't take too long to fill my walk-in closet to the top as I went on a shopping spree for the next few years.

The shelves that I got built in my walk in closet were done very smartly. It had a top, quite hard to reach shelf where I put my sentimental stuff like my wedding dress and my parent's old photographs. On the second shelf, that I had easier access to and was eye level, I put my everyday clothes. On the third shelf I stored my Shahtoosh and Pashmina shawls, things I didn't need all the time. On the bottom one, which was hard to see, I put my 'impulse buys' like costume jewelry, random western dresses, things I would never use, but will never give away since they are a good reminder for me not to splurge again. I stored my clutches and fancy shoes in the original boxes and piled them on one long open shelf on the opposite side, and hung my party wear on the long rods. Everyday when I would walk into this closet to grab something, I would pause for few moments to admire my organization skills.

Pretty soon life started to run and I started having trouble catching up. On an insane day when I would not have control on anything in my life (including my children) and the whole house would be upside down, I would sneak into my closet, see how everything was still in its place and take a deep breath and would come out ready to combat the insanity around me. I would grade it as free session with my therapist.

A few months back I started my spring cleaning, and went at it with a vengeance and was already in my 'Psycho Shelly' mode. My walk-in closet was my last project. I have this ritual that I perform every year in my walk-in closet where I stand in the middle of it and look around. I look at all my personal worldly belongings and thank my Lord, then my husband (I must add, in that order), and then decide to give some of my clothes and shoes for charity.
As I was going through all my shelves and started admiring my organization skills one last time, all of a sudden, a lightbulb turned on in my head: Why couldn't I sort out and shelf my emotions, my feelings, my relationships, plus everything else important in my life like this?

I put my ego and my emotions of love, which I believe are the two most overrated things in this world, on the top, hard to reach shelf. From then on I would get a stepping stool and reach out for those two 'trump cards' when I was pushed against a wall. Given my past history, I don't think I will be needing this stepping stool very often.

The next shelf, which was eye level, I put things that I wanted to stay very clear about, like my absolute faith in my Creator, my relentless fights against my 'nafs', my lifetime lessons, my commitment to my family, my loyalty to my friends, my hard earned credibility, my humility, my compassion, my power to empathize, and my ability to resolve.

On the third shelf I put things that needed my periodic attention, like broken promises, my broken heart, my 'shikwas' to my Creator, my dua'as for my loved ones, my deeds from my clan, my tenacity, my self reliance, and my gut feeling.

On the bottom shelf, which is hard to see, I put things that I would never want to deal with, like my sorrows, my regrets, my apologies, my disappointments, my denials, my pains, my scars, my failures, and my falls.

The safe that I could not build in this closet, I started building in my being. The rubies, the emeralds, the pearls, and the diamonds that I collected all my life and paid good money for, are stashed safely in my bank's safe deposit box, which I pay yearly rent for. The gems that I started gathering, since the day I started walking, which are priceless, required to be handled with more care. I took my Ammi's mehak, my Abbi's shaan, my sister's touch, my brothers' maan, my daughters' tears, my sons' aan, my friends' laughter, my cousins' affection, my husbands' trust, my maiden name on a torn piece of paper, the life altering moments when I left my parents home, glimpses from my 'bachpan', and a big chunk of my soul and stashed them in this built-in safe. I locked it, and chose to forget the combination.

I 'came out of closet' with a big grin on my face, and for that, I thank you California Closets.


Much Love,
Shehla

"Beti"

My daughters are my strength and my sons are my weakness. Thanks to modern technology you can't feel the tremble in my hands but I am pretty sure this keyboard made out of plastic and metal is experiencing every emotion I feel right now as I believe these are the most intense words I will ever write.

I think a woman is God's strongest creature and BETI is the most powerful phenomenon. A beti is the most forceful thing on the face of the earth as it forces you to do things that are sometimes beyond your imagination. When her tears come down her cheeks and drop right at the most tender corner of your heart, you are bound to acknowledge the true power of a daughter.

Beti is a gift from Almighty Allah that he doesn't bless everyone with. God has been good to me, blessing me with four daughters. They are as precious as they come. Each one recognizes her responsibility to her family with her loyalty intact, and recognizes her own worth as a woman and, more importantly, her worth as a daughter. Each of them can and will move mountains for her family if she has to.

At times she is so gentle and fragile that if you touch her she will break, and at times her tenacity is mind blowing. As a mother, quite early on in her life, you start feeling her joys and sorrows much more than she would feel herself. You know she is going to pay some kind of a toll at each and every corner she turns in her lifetime, much more than her brothers or husband will.

The picture that I have attached is of my son Haroon with his first born, Ariana. This was taken at at a pediatricians office while waiting for her first shots. The baby obviously has no idea what is coming her way. But according to Anila (Haroon's wife), Haroon was about to cry. He could not handle even the anticipation of the little pinch his daughter was about to feel, lasting no more than half a second. To me, this photograph is worth a thousand words. I see it as a moment when my son experienced and acknowledged the power of a beti.

Of all the roles that I played during my life as a woman, my role as a beti is most precious to me. Although both my parents are gone, I still am their daughter. I was their daughter first before i was "anyone" to anyone else. I have to admit I didn't fully realize my worth as a beti until my own daughters became young ladies. What I saw in them, I'm sure my parents saw in me, and that is the whole world. What my parents did and what I'm doing is the exact same thing, sometimes making the impossible possible just to catch a little glimpse of smile on her face......at times, a very EXPENSIVE smile in every sense of the word. I have my four daughters, one daughter-in-law, and three granddaughters, and when I am surrounded by them I am the "richest' woman alive as they are my most expensive accessories.

On a lighter note, if you don't have a daughter, you better get on your knees and beg Allah for at least two (as long as you are still in your reproductive years) as they could be your ticket to Jannat. They will keep you grounded more than anyone else would dare. I love them to pieces but I have to admit there were times, more like years (their pre teens and teen years) when I wanted to mail them back to sender. Besides stealing my heart they have graduated to stealing my shoes and bags and I suspect pretty soon my identity as well. They occupy each and every corner of my heart and prove to be the worst tenants as they don't pay any rent but refuse to leave.

"A mother's treasure is her daughter." -Catherine Pulsifer

Much Love,

Shehla